


Eternal

by Bisexual_Bookworm238



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Merlin Dies (Merlin), Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27462625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexual_Bookworm238/pseuds/Bisexual_Bookworm238
Summary: Merlin accidentally reveals his magic to Arthur and the knights. A bout of rage ends up with unforeseen consequences, and Merlin learns what being "Emrys" truly means.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 91
Kudos: 873





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know at what point in the canon this takes place. Basically, Arthur is king, Lancelot is alive and with Gwen, and Morgana isn't a threat.

Merlin was getting rather tired of patrols. This one had taken them near the border, meaning a long ride there and a long ride back. He was already sore as they rode alongside a cliff, and he turned his head for a moment to see if there was a bottom to it. He thought there was, but couldn’t see it. With his luck, they’d get ambushed and Arthur would fall down into it, forcing Merlin to use his magic to save his royal ass. 

A cry rang out from their left, the opposite side of the cliff. Merlin’s head jerked towards the sound, and he groaned when he realized that the cry came from a group of bandits that were currently running towards them with swords drawn. He watched as the knights jumped from their horses before leaping off of his. There wasn’t a good place to hide, so he would just have to hope that the knights didn’t have a need for his magic.

About a minute passed as the knights easily fought off the bandits. They clearly weren’t trained assassins, just men who had nothing better to do than try to steal and kill for their own personal gain. When it seemed all of them had fallen, the knights relaxed. Merlin was still on edge, worried that the fight had been too easy. He hadn’t even had to use his magic, which was buzzing unpleasantly under his skin as it always did when there was still danger. 

He glanced around, just in time to see another bandit that had been hiding jump out from his hiding place, sword raised, heading straight for Arthur. The king turned around just as the sword was about to strike him.

Merlin unthinkingly raised his hand and let his magic burst out of him, not using any incantations, just pure instinct. The bandit flew backward and hit a large tree behind him with a sickening  _ crunch _ .

He saw everyone turn around to see what had caused it and knew that they had all seen the gold seep out of his eyes, had seen the raised hand and knew what it had meant. 

No one moved for several moments.

All of the knights were looking at Merlin with the exception of Lancelot. He was currently watching the others, especially Arthur. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

Merlin’s eyes darted for a moment before landing on Arthur. The king stood stock still.

“You’re a sorcerer.” Merlin flinched at the statement. He had pictured the day everyone found out, and he knew the sentence was coming. What he hadn’t expected was the deadpan, expressionless way it had been delivered.

“Yes,” he responded, still looking into the blonde man’s eyes. There was silence for a few more moments, and then Arthur drew his sword.

There was a shout of fury from Gwaine, who had to be restrained by Leon and Percival. Both Merlin and Arthur paid them no mind, focused only on each other. Merlin raised his arms in surrender, fear beginning to show in his eyes. 

“Arthur, please, I-”

“Silence,” Arthur snarled, slowly starting to walk forward, sword pointed in the direction of Merlin’s chest. Merlin began to step backwards to match Arthur’s stride.

“Please, you don’t have to do this. I’ll go, you’ll never have to see me again. Please, I only ever did it for you, to protect Camelot…” Merlin continued babbling until he felt the edge of the cliff under his feet, stopping only when he felt both that and the sword poking his chest. 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand,” Arthur hissed.

He expected more babbling, incoherent nonsense about how Merlin had done it for him, for Camelot. He expected fight, resistance. Instead, it was silent for a few moments. Then:

“I can’t.”

Arthur almost fell over at the brokenness in Merlin’s voice. Merlin lowered his gaze, unable to meet Arthur’s anymore. After all, how could he? He had lied for years, betrayed Arthur and his trust, something that had been happening too frequently to the man. He deserved the distrust, the blade poking at him.

Arthur began to breathe heavily, just wishing Merlin would meet his eyes again. If he did, Arthur knew he would be able to forgive him, and maybe this feeling of hurt and betrayal would dissipate. 

“Merlin,” he said through gritted teeth. The man refused to look at him. “Merlin,” Arthur said louder, ignoring the tear that was slipping down Merlin’s cheek. He continued to ignore him, his gaze held fast on the ground. “Merlin!” Arthur yelled, poking him with his sword with slightly more force to get his attention.

Arthur never regretted anything more in his life. 

Merlin felt the sharp tip of the sword poke his chest harder, and on instinct, his body moved away from it. His eyes widened as he felt his feet slip, and he scrambled to get hold of something. He briefly saw Arthur’s eyes widen as well before his chest hit the cliff’s edge, saw him rushing forward to grab Merlin before he fell.

His chest bounced off the edge and he fell backwards, his hands just out of reach of Arthur’s outstretched ones. He heard Arthur yelling as he fell into the dark chasm, and for a short moment, he was glad that he hadn’t had time to grab Arthur’s hand. If he had, they surely would have both fallen. If he was to die this way, at least Arthur wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of killing him himself.

He managed a small smile before darkness quickly overtook him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said once a week, but most of this chapter was already written, so like... Here I guess.

No one moved at the top of the chasm. Arthur stayed where he was, hand still outstretched for Merlin to grab. Arthur’s mind seemed to have stopped completely, refusing to believe it. Merlin is gone, Merlin is gone, _Merlin is gone and it’s all his fault…_

There was a loud cry from behind him, and Arthur winced inwardly at the sound that tore from Gwaine’s throat. He didn’t turn around to look, but he could vaguely hear the sound of him fighting against Leon and Percival. He heard two bodies hit the ground, and when he finally did stand and turn, it was to Gwaine’s fist connecting with his nose.

White exploded behind his eyes as his eyes began to water. It was clear that Gwaine had broken his nose, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. It was no less than he deserved. He opened his eyes back up in time to see Lancelot grabbing Gwaine’s arm, which had risen to strike him again.

“Let go of me!” he snarled at Lancelot. Lancelot tightened his grip, his eyes slightly misted with sadness.

“Stop Gwaine, that’s enough,” he said firmly, his voice a little thicker than it normally would be. “It won’t bring him back,” he added in a low voice. 

All the fight seemed to leave Gwaine at that point, and he sagged in his hold. Arthur stood up, clutching his nose to try and stem the blood flowing out of it.

“Come on, we have to find a way down,” Arthur said. The knights stared at him. “We have to find him. Maybe he’s alive, we have to get him back to Camelot, we have to get him back to Gaius…”

“Sire, with all due respect,” Leon said slowly, “There’s no way down the chasm. And there’s no way anyone could survive a fall like that. He’s gone, Arthur.” As he spoke, his voice became thicker and quieter, the last sentence coming out as a pained whisper.

Arthur knew he was speaking the truth. No mortal man could survive such a drop, but his mind was refusing to let him believe that Merlin, clumsy, insolent, wonderful Merlin, could be dead. He had such a presence in Arthur’s life, he was a rock that Arthur could always depend on, there was no way he could possibly leave him. He wasn’t allowed to, thought Arthur miserably. How was Arthur supposed to go back to the way his life was before, how was he supposed to remember what life was like without Merlin? He didn’t want to, and now it was all his fault that he would have to. As he thought about all of this numbly, one thought crossed his mind, and he had to refuse to latch on to it for fear that he would never think of anything else for the rest of his days. 

_I didn’t even get to tell him I loved him._

* * *

The ride back to Camelot was an uneasy one. It seemed that without Merlin’s incessant chatter, the world was much quieter.

It had been difficult to pull the knights and king away from the cliff. It felt wrong not to bring Merlin’s body back, and Arthur hated it. Merlin deserved to have a proper send off, not to rot at the bottom of a chasm that he had been pushed into. The image made Arthur sick, and he tried to force himself to think of anything else.

It was funny how quickly the betrayal of Merlin’s magic was forgotten. With little else to do, Arthur thought about why Merlin had hidden the fact that he practiced magic, and had come to realize that it was a matter of survival, not simply a betrayal. Based on how Merlin had reacted, he had likely learned magic to protect him and the knights.

(Some small desperate part of him hoped that Merlin had saved himself with his magic. But the larger, more logical part of him knew that he hadn’t.)

Perhaps Merlin had learned it because he was rubbish at sword fighting. He had likely gotten tired of the knights always having to save him, so he learned it so he wouldn’t be useless. 

Either way, Arthur had still failed him. He knew he had never done anything to repeal his father’s laws on magic, but he didn’t necessarily hate it. He had thought before that all magic was evil, but over the years had come to realize that he probably just hadn’t seen any good magic because it wasn’t allowed. However, he deemed it safer to simply keep the laws the way that they were, lest anyone become corrupted by the power magic offered. 

And thanks to his unwillingness to act, Merlin was dead. 

The thought spun around in his head for a bit, unable to fully comprehend at first. And soon a new thought hit him at full force.

Merlin hadn’t trusted him.

The fact that he had never told Arthur made that obvious. Arthur had told Merlin things he had never told anyone, he had shared his soul with the other man. But Merlin hadn’t done the same with Arthur. Merlin felt he couldn’t trust Arthur with an important secret. 

Suddenly, the look of pure, naked fear that had been in Merlin’s eyes when he realized Arthur knew his secret flashed through his mind again. Merlin had been _afraid_ of him, had been afraid Arthur would execute him the way he had other magic users.

And in a way, Arthur had.

Arthur wanted to throw up when he realized that Merlin’s fear wasn’t misplaced. Arthur had killed him for having magic. Arthur was the monster Merlin had feared. How much had Merlin feared him, he wondered. How many times did Merlin secretly flinch whenever Arthur turned his back? How many sleepless nights had the younger man had, worrying whether or not his next day would be his last? How much of it was Arthur’s fault?

Nothing like this would ever happen again.

Arthur hated that it had taken the death of his…of the man he...of Merlin to see the unjustness of the laws. How many people in his kingdom feared him? How many people saw him as no better than his father? How many thought that Arthur would have them killed in cold blood?

Merlin had. And that was too much for Arthur to bear. 

This could never happen again.

The phrase repeated like a mantra in his head. He knew when he arrived back in Camelot, things would change. He would make magic legal, he would meet with the Druids to establish peace, and he would ensure no one would feel unsafe in his kingdom again.

For Merlin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had more planned for this chapter, but this ended up being longer than I originally planned anyways, so I ended up splitting it into two. The next one will be a bit shorter than the other two most likely. I haven't written it yet though, so we'll see how it ends up. It will definitely be about a week before it goes up however. Hopefully schoolwork stays at a minimum and my motivation stays high.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than the others, but it was originally going to be at the end of the previous chapter. I thought this scene deserved its own chapter though, short as it is.

When they finally set up camp for the night, everyone was still quiet. No one felt in the mood to speak, and each of them ended up having to take a chore Merlin would have normally taken care of. Eventually night fell, and everyone had quietly gone to their bedrolls, Arthur quietly offering to take the first watch. He wasn’t in the mood to go to sleep.

After about an hour of him sitting by the fire, not paying as close attention to his surroundings as he should have, he registered someone sitting down next to him. He glanced over and saw that it was Lancelot, also staring into the flames.

He thought about the day, about everything that had happened, and realized that the reveal of Merlin’s magic hadn’t seemed to have shaken the knight one bit.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Arthur asked quietly. Lancelot was quiet for a moment.

“Yes, I did.” 

Arthur was silent, not sure how to reply. His heart ached for a moment when he realized that Merlin had trusted Lancelot with his secret and not Arthur. Did the two have something between them that Merlin and Arthur didn’t?

“Oh,” was all he managed to get out.

“He never told me,” Lancelot added, clearly able to read Arthur. “I only found out because he helped me kill the griffin using his magic.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raised. “That long ago?”

“Yes. I don’t think he wanted me to know, but it was impossible not to tell, what with the spear glowing blue and all,” Lancelot said, a small smile on his face as he reminisced. 

“I didn’t realize he had learned magic that long ago,” Arthur said, almost absentmindedly. Lancelot looked at him.

“He never learned magic, he was born with it,” he said. 

Arthur tore his gaze from the fire. “What?”

“He told me once he was able to move objects with his mind before he could walk. His mother once told me a story when she visited Camelot that the first time Merlin ever opened his eyes after he was born, they were gold for a full minute before turning blue,” Lancelot said, turning his gaze back to the fire as he spoke.

Arthur looked back at the flames too, unsure of what to say. The guilt that he had been feeling all day returned a hundredfold.

He had killed Merlin for something he was born with.

Something he could not control. 

Something that made him special.

“I don’t understand. How are you not angry at me?” Arthur asked quietly. Lancelot met his gaze and gave him an intense look.

“Oh I’m not angry at you, sire, I’m furious.” Arthur winced at the confession. “You let a good man die today. But I can tell that you clearly know that, and frankly, I don’t need to add to your guilt. However, I do need to know something.”

“What?”

“What are you going to do now?”

Arthur had not been expecting this question, but he didn’t dare look away from Lancelot, who was still making direct eye contact.

“As soon as we return, I’m lifting the ban. No one shall ever be persecuted simply for using magic. Or being born with it,” he added as an afterthought. Lancelot nodded. “And, I was hoping you could tell me any stories about him, so that I can know everything he did for me, and for Camelot,” he said in a quiet voice.

Lancelot’s gaze softened. “I can tell you a few, but if you want to know the full story, you’ll have to ask Gaius. He knew everything Merlin did, I only ever heard a few of his adventures. In fact, I’m sure there were stories even Gaius won’t know about,” Lancelot said.

Arthur’s mouth opened slightly, before he nodded minutely and looked back into the dying flames. 

* * *

Arthur kept his promise. As soon as they returned to Camelot, he repealed the ban on magic, ensuring no one would deal with the injustices that had been allowed under his fathers rule.

And many nights, he wandered to the physician’s home, allowing Gaius and Lancelot to tell him the stories of a brave, selfless, and powerful warlock who had done everything in his power to keep Arthur and all of Camelot safe.

And if he spent more nights than not unable to sleep, consumed by the guilt and heartbreak of his own actions, no one had to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just love how I said I was going to try to update this once a week, and this is the third time this week I've updated? Writer's block has finally left.  
> The next chapter is almost done as well, so that should hopefully go up in the next couple of days as well.  
> Hope you all enjoy it so far!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We really out here putting out two updates in one day. I have two papers due at midnight, but I had motivation to write this instead. Oops.  
> Enjoy the Merlin angst.

Merlin’s first thought when he woke up was that everything hurt.

He was lying on his back, barely able to see the sliver of light above him. He groaned as the pain intensified, and he realized that every bone in his body felt broken. And they probably were, he mused. After all, a fall like that would have,  _ should have _ , killed him. But then again, when had he ever been able to properly die? He knew though that even though the fall hadn’t killed him, dehydration would in a few short days. He couldn’t get up, so it wouldn’t have mattered if there had been water in this chasm. He had a few more days of pain, then he would cease to exist. 

He spent those few days drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling the effects of dehydration kick in when he was awake. His throat had never been so dry, and his head was pounding. He waited and waited to fall asleep and not wake up. He waited for the relief that death would bring him. 

It was three days later after he initially woke up that he finally did drift into death. He knew the instant it was about to happen, and he was somewhat relieved. The pain he was experiencing would leave, he would be able to finally rest. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift.

* * *

Imagine his surprise when he woke up again. 

He had died, he was sure of it. He had felt death, he had welcomed it.

So how in the seven hells was he still lying at the bottom of this chasm? 

Somehow, he had died and returned, feeling no effects of the dehydration that had plagued him before.

When the same thing happened to him three days later, Merlin was confused. How did he keep dying, and then return?

Death and Agony took shifts over who was watching him, and Merlin didn’t know who he preferred. Agony was at least proof that he would live, and may eventually get out of the godsforsaken chasm he was trapped in. However, Death was kinder, allowing him reprieve from the pain and worry. 

Time passed, how much Merlin couldn’t be certain. However, he knew as it did that the pain began to lessen, he was able to move small parts of his body, like his fingers and toes. The dryness of his throat and empty chasm of his stomach were constants, but he obviously couldn’t fix those until he was able to move again.

He noticed that every time he woke up, it was a little bit cooler. It was a subtle change, and if Merlin had anything better to do than lay at the bottom of a chasm, he wouldn’t have noticed it. However, when he had fallen, it had been midsummer. Now, it almost felt like harvest time, and once he noticed a leaf fall near him. Only one though. 

With little else to do, Merlin thought.

He thought about his mother, and wondered if she had received the news. Gaius would have written to her, he would have let her know. There was a pang in his chest when he realized that he had left her alone now. First his father had had to leave her, and now Merlin had. He hoped the people in Ealdor treated her kindly and helped her out now that he wasn’t able to send a portion of his earnings to her every month. 

He thought of Lancelot, and how the noble knight had been so kind to him. He had accepted Merlin and his magic from the very beginning, and he was going to miss the friendship they held.

He thought about Gwaine, and about how close he had been with the man. He knew he likely had lashed out afterwards, but he hoped he hadn’t renounced his knighthood. Camelot needed a good knight, and he knew that Arthur would be safe with him around.

_ Arthur.  _ Against his own will, he thought about Arthur the most. He thought of the look of betrayal written on his face when he discovered Merlin’s secret, how he had poked him with the sword until he fell off of the cliff. He thought about how he looked when he laughed at Merlin’s jokes, how their banter had always been so easy and carefree. How even though Arthur was a brave, noble, kind-hearted king, he was more than that. He was Arthur, and more often than not allowed Merlin to just be Merlin, not Merlin the servant, serving King Arthur. He thought about how often he had risked his life for the man, how many people he had killed for him, how often he had been hurt.

This pain hurt the worst of all. Because after everything he had done, Arthur had been the one to put him down here. He had unknowingly sentenced Merlin to suffer for months in this dark pit, trapped and alone. Hell, depending on if he ever found a way out of here, he might spend years, decades hidden away. 

And he found he couldn’t even be angry about it.

He had betrayed Arthur’s trust. While it was an act of self-preservation, based on Arthur’s judgement it was selfish and inexcusable. He had hurt Arthur. He had hurt the man he had loved with all his heart. Because what other emotion could describe what he felt for him? What other word would justify the actions he had done in Arthur’s name? How could he do all of that and not realize that he had fallen in love with the king?

Perhaps this punishment was deserved. At least down here, he would never again have to look into the eyes of his destined other half and see the shame and disappointment that would definitely be there. After all, his affections could never be returned, or matched.

More often than not, this thinking exhausted him, and he would fall asleep with nonexistent tears in his eyes.

* * *

It was a long time before Merlin was able to move again. He discovered it by accident. He had fallen asleep in the night, and the only reason why he knew he had been asleep and not dead was because of the nightmares. There had been several, or perhaps just one continuous one, Merlin couldn’t be sure. Either way, it had ended with everyone Merlin had ever known and loved chasing him off a cliff, and before he could hit the ground, he woke up, lifting his head and chest a bit while panting heavily. 

After catching his breath, he realized what he had done, and was shocked. Cautiously, he raised his chest until he finally was fully sitting up. He was very, very sore and stiff from the weeks of laying on the hard rock, but he was too impressed with his progress to focus on that. 

He had gingerly tried to stand up after that, but discovered that that was a bad idea. The white hot pain that shot through him indicated that his legs weren’t done healing yet, pulling a gasp from his throat as he fell back to the ground. Well, it seemed it would still be a while before he was able to fully walk. 

Though, he thought, he didn’t really have anywhere to go so it didn’t really matter. He couldn’t find a way out of the chasm, and even if he did find a way out, where did he have to go? Camelot certainly wouldn’t welcome him back, and there was a reason he had left Ealdor in the first place. Perhaps if he did manage to get out, he would visit his mother for a day or two, and then go wherever his feet took him. 

He could feel the effects of dehydration creeping up on him again, and groaned at the prospect of dying again. This really was getting rather old. Just as he was about to fall asleep, the exhaustion of his movements finally catching up to him, a voice echoed in his head.

_ Emrys. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took a little longer than planned, but I had a lot of assignments due this week before break. I also did not have any of this chapter written when I posted the last one, so it took a little longer because of that as well.

_ Emrys. _

Merlin jolted at the voice. He certainly had not been expecting it, and he wondered if it was perhaps a hallucination. 

_ Emrys, can you hear me?  _

_ Yes.  _ Merlin figured even if it was an illusion, it would be nice to have someone to talk to for a while.

_ We’ve been searching for you for many months now. But now that you have gained some of your strength back, your magic has finally led us to you.  _

Merlin was confused. What did they mean, his magic led them to him? Why had the druids been looking for him? Sure, he was important to the prophecy, but surely he couldn’t be anymore. Now that he couldn’t help or protect Arthur, why should they risk themselves to help him?

A loud rumbling nearby caused him to sit up quickly, making him dizzy. He laid back down and squeezed his eyes shut to stop the world from spinning, but opened them as soon as he could to see what was causing the noise. 

It looked as though the chasm was being carved before him, a spiral staircase appearing in the cliffside. 

His earlier exhaustion was coming back full force, and he tried to force himself to keep his eyes open. It was difficult however, and the last thing he remembered was the vague shapes in cloaks walking over to him before the world went black.

* * *

When he finally came to, the first thing he noticed that whatever he was laying on was much, much softer than the rock he had been laying on for so long. He felt warm and safe, something he had not felt in a long time. He also noticed that his legs didn’t hurt near as much, though his whole body still ached.

With great effort, he opened his eyes. He saw rough cloth above him, and realized he must have been in a tent. He sat up gingerly, though his body protested. After so long without food and movement, it was clearly showing its anger at being forced to move.

He was just about to swing his legs off of the bed and try to figure out where exactly the hell he was when someone entered the tent. He tensed, afraid after not being near anyone for so long, ready to run away if it was a knight of Camelot. However, the sweeping robes told him that no, his rescuer wasn’t going to kill him. He should have figured from the mindspeak and the fact that they had called him,

“Emrys.” The man bowed his head slightly. “I see you have finally awoken.”

“Er, yeah,” Merlin said, his voice a bit hoarse from months of disuse. “Who are you?”

“I am Eindras,” the man said. “I am the leader of this group. When we druids heard your magic call for help, it was difficult to trace where exactly we were to go. We were forced to separate into groups, and we happened to be the ones to find you.”

“Oh,” Merlin said. 

“You are probably confused as to how you are currently alive,” Eindras guessed. Merlin nodded slowly. “Has anyone ever told you why you are called Emrys?”

“No, I’ve asked, but I’ve never gotten a straight answer.,” Merlin said.

“Emrys has a true meaning, it is not simply a name that was decided randomly,” Eindras explained. “Emrys means ‘eternal’. You are, after all, a creature of magic, and magic is, in itself, eternal. As long as there is magic on this Earth, you will live.”

Merlin lay still shocked. “Are you… are you saying I’m immortal?” he asked, voice small.

Eindras nodded. “Only a blade forged in the breath of a dragon would bring about your end.” 

Merlin nodded. He had known that such weapons would kill immortals. After all, he had had one made specifically for Arthur for that reason. He tried to remember whether or not the sword Arthur had had on him that day on the cliffside had been Excalibur, but his memory was fuzzy after so many months. It was fitting, fitting that Arthur was the only person he knew of that could kill him.

His thoughts were interrupted by his stomach growling violently. He sheepishly looked at Eindras, and the druid understood. He walked over to a table that Merlin hadn’t noticed and picked up a slice of bread and a small goblet of water.

“Eat. You will stay with us until you have recovered fully. We may have been able to heal your broken bones, but you are far from healthy,” Eindras said as he offered the bread to Merlin. Merlin took it, a bit upset as he knew that this would not fully satisfy him, but his physician’s training had taught him that men that went a long time without eating had to work their way up to full meals, otherwise they would simply get sick and be worse off than before.

Merlin took the food and drink, sighing quietly for what he knew would be a long recovery.

* * *

It was two weeks before he was able to walk without any pain, and another before he was able to do it on his own. He continued to live with the druids for another three weeks after that, gathering his strength and healing from his ordeal, both mentally and physically. 

He had finally been able to eat full meals, but he knew that he was still skin and bone, and it would likely be awhile before he even looked as he had before, and his mother had always complained that he was too skinny.

The thought of his mother hurt, and he ached to know that she still thought that he was dead. That’s why when Eindras asked what he wished to do when he fully recovered, he asked if they could journey to Ealdor. Eindras had simply nodded and asked no further questions. Apparently it was near where another small group of druids were camped, so they could simply meet up with them after they left Merlin in his home village.

The area near the cliff that the druids had been camping was several days from Ealdor, so the journey lasted almost two weeks. Since Merlin was still recovering, they moved slowly. Merlin apologized several times for this, but the group was kind and patient, understanding the toll that had been taken on his body.

Finally, when they were a day from Ealdor, Merlin split from the group. They needed to go east to meet the other druids, while Merlin was to go south. He bid them goodbye, and thanked them profusely, letting them know that should they ever have need of him he would be there. Eindras had smiled, and they had left.

It was almost dawn when Merlin finally made it to Ealdor, and he made his way over to the small barn in the village that had housed his mother’s cow that she would be feeding. His nerves were alight when he finally reached the dimly lit barn and heard the tell-tale humming that told him his mother was there. Smiling, he entered the barn to see her. She didn’t notice him at first, but eventually saw him in her peripheral and turned to face him. Shock filled her face. 

“Merlin?” she whispered disbelievingly. Merlin grinned wider.

“Hello, Mum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was fun. I haven't written any of the next chapter either, so it might be a little while until the next one comes out. Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a minute, I was not as productive over break as I thought I would be.

The two were silent for a moment. And then Hunith burst into tearful laughter and enveloped Merlin into a hug, which he gladly returned, tears prickling in the corners of his own eyes.

“My boy, my child, you’ve come back,” Hunith rasped quietly through her tears.

“Of course I did, I couldn’t leave you all alone,” Merlin said thickly.

“But how? I was told what happened, that no man could survive a fall like the one you took,” she asked, pulling away to look Merlin over. “Did you save yourself using magic? And why did you wait so long to come back?”

“It’s a long story, Mum,” Merlin said. “I’ll explain everything, I promise.” And with that he pulled her back into a tight hug, one she gladly returned.

This, this was what Merlin had truly missed. In his months in the chasm, he had been alone, with no one to talk to or touch. Even the druids had not touched him except to change his bandages or help him walk. He had received no physical affection in so long, and before he had always gotten it. In Ealdor, his mum would always hug him and Will was always slinging his arms around Merlin. In Camelot he was able to hug people like Gwen and Lancelot, and Arthur had always roughhoused with him, but it was always affectionate.

He hastily shoved away any thoughts he had of Arthur and allowed himself to be immersed in the moment. He allowed himself to feel the warmth and comfort he had been missing for months, and for the first time in a long, long time, he felt loved.

* * *

One day, a few weeks after his return to Ealdor, he told his mother that he was going for a walk in the woods. She bade him to stay safe, and he reassured her he would. He went off to the forest, a specific destination in mind.

Finally, he arrived at the bottom of a tall, thick tree with many low hanging branches. He climbed up a few branches until he was at his favorite, a thick one about ten feet off the ground that had a nice angle to lay back on.

“Hey, Will,” he said softly, looking at the branch above his head that had been his deceased friend’s preferred spot. “I figured that if I didn’t come to visit, you’d find a way to haunt me somehow, and frankly I think you’d make more trouble as a ghost than you ever did when you were alive.” He smiled to think of what his friend’s face would look like at that statement. 

“A lot’s happened, Will. I recently found out that I’m immortal, so you never even had to lie for me after all,” Merlin said. “So I’m sorry, but I’m afraid it’s unlikely for me to join you in Avalon.” A tear slid down his face as he said that, his voice becoming a little thick. 

The one thing that had made Merlin less afraid of dying when he first fell down that cliff was the fact that he would be reunited with everyone he had lost. His father, Freya, Will… It had hurt when he realized that it was almost impossible for him to see them again. Technically, he could go visit the lake to see Freya, but that would require going into Camelot territory, and he wasn’t about to risk that.

“You know, I really, really wish you were here right now,” Merlin said, his voice thicker but stronger than before. “It’d be nice to have someone around besides Mum that was happy to see that I wasn't dead. It’d be nice to have a friend again.” He was silent for a moment, listening to the wind swish the trees around. “I miss you. As sentimental as that sounds, I really do.” He paused for a second. “Now who am I supposed to get into trouble with? It’s not near as much fun by yourself!” 

He let out a watery chuckle before squeezing his eyes shut and reclining on the branch. He simply lay there for a bit, remembering all the hours that he had spent in this tree in his youth, laughing and joking with the now dead man whose bones were buried at the base of it.

After several minutes passed, Merlin finally opened his eyes and sat up before climbing down the tree. He was about to walk away before he turned back to gaze at his friend’s final resting place.

“Goodbye, old friend. I hope wherever you are, you’ve found happiness.” With that, he walked away, knowing that he would never be able to bear returning to this spot.

* * *

“Merlin darling?” Hunith asked a week after Merlin’s visit to Will’s grave.

“Yes Mum?” he responded, not looking up from the stew he was mixing over the fire. 

“I’ve been thinking, perhaps you should go back to Camelot for a short while.” Merlin froze at this.

“Why?” he asked after a moment.

“Well, Gaius still thinks that you’re dead. I think it would be good for you to go see him and let him know that you aren’t,” she explained. Merlin thought about it.

“Why couldn’t you just write to him and let him know?” he asked. 

“I don’t think he would believe me without seeing you. I fear he may think I’ve lost my mind,” she said, a sad smile on her face. “I would write him to come visit, but in his last letter he mentioned his health had been declining as of late. I wouldn’t want him to make such a long journey.”

Merlin looked at the stew that continued to simmer in the pot. “But what if I am spotted in Camelot?” he asked.

“I’ve thought of that,” Hunith said, and she walked over to her chest of drawers. Merlin raised his eyebrows as she dug down to the bottom of it before pulling out an old, gray cloak. Merlin remembered seeing it before, but he had ignored it for the most part because it was so ratty looking. “This was your father’s. I think it’s time it became yours.”

Merlin looked at it closely, trying to see if there was anything magical about it. It just looked like a ratty old brown cloak with bronze clasps. It looked as though they were engraved, but he couldn’t make out what it was. It would certainly help him to blend in, but if anyone looked at his face they would still recognize him. 

“Thanks, Mum,” Merlin said, hoping that he didn’t sound ungrateful. He really was filled with gratitude, he knew his mother didn’t have many things from his father, so everything of his was precious to her. But he still wasn’t sure why she thought that this would help.

“Ah, I know, it doesn’t look like much. But watch,” she said as she draped it over her shoulders. She clasped it together and grabbed the hood, winking at Merlin before she raised it up. As soon as the hood touched her head, she vanished.

Merlin’s eyes widened. “Is that…?”

“An invisibility cloak?” Hunith asked, grinning as she came back into view. “It is indeed.”

Merlin’s mouth was agape. Hunith undid the clasps and handed him the cloak, which he took wordlessly.

“So, will you be going back?” she asked. Merlin was quiet for a moment as he thought about it.

“Yes,” he finally said. “But, I think I may stay here for a few more days if that’s alright?”

“Of course dear, I certainly don’t mind. Mind that stew now, we don’t want the carrots to get soggy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luckily, the next couple of chapters are mostly written, so they should get out in a timely manner, fingers crossed. Hope you enjoyed!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super happy with this chapter, but here we are, the return to Camelot!

Four days after his conversation with his mother, Merlin was sneaking through the gates of Camelot. He had left a few days earlier with some food, the cloak, and the promise to return in a little over a week, though Hunith had told him not to worry about making good on it.

Merlin walked through the town, focusing to make sure the hood stayed up. He hadn’t even realized how much he missed being there, hearing the yells of the citizens, the smells from the bakery and animals, the calls of vendors he always haggled with. It hurt his heart how much he had missed it, and that he wouldn’t see it again after today.

He didn’t even pay attention to where he was going, relying solely on muscle memory to take him to Gaius’ home. He was excited to see him, though he knew perhaps it may be cruel to have to say goodbye when he went back to Ealdor after he thought Merlin was dead. However, he knew his mother was right, and that he should know the truth. Gwaine and Lancelot too, perhaps. Gwaine didn’t seem to care that Merlin had magic, and Lancelot obviously knew.

When he finally reached Gaius’, he hesitated before opening the door. He knew that Gaius and the guards wouldn’t notice, but it still felt odd. He was now a visitor in the place he once called home. 

Once he had opened the door, he took in the familiar rooms. Almost nothing had changed, except for the man currently leaning over the workbench. Gaius looked a bit more gaunt, dark circles under his eyes. Merlin’s heart broke.

“Gaius,” he said, lowering the hood of the cloak. Gaius jumped. He turned to Merlin quickly, his face a blank look of disbelief. 

“Merlin?” He asked in a hoarse whisper. Merlin felt a tear pricking in his eye before stepping over and pulling him into a hug. He felt Gaius freeze before sinking into it, shaking slightly. “My boy, I was told you were dead.”

“Well, that isn’t entirely wrong,” Merlin said, pulling away. He explained everything the druids had told him. Gaius listened quietly, not saying anything until he had finished.

“So, you have come back to Camelot?” He asked, sounding hopeful. Merlin nodded a few times.

“I’ve only come to say goodbye and tell you that I was alive. I thought I would see Lancelot and perhaps Gwaine after this, then I’m leaving.” he explained. Gaius’ eyebrows shot up and he started to shake his head.

“You don’t mean to say you are leaving to never return?” When Merlin didn’t say anything, he began to shake his head. “My boy, you don’t have to! Arthur has lifted the ban on magic! You have nothing to fear anymore!” 

Merlin was quiet for a moment, processing what Gaius had said. “He what?”

“Almost as soon as they returned after, well…” he paused for a moment, before starting again, “he legalized magic. Only those who use it for evil are to be punished for it.”

Merlin was quiet for a second, reeling at the news. But then, the events at the cliff replayed in his mind, and he shook his head. 

“You didn’t see him Gaius, trust me, when he saw that I had magic…” Merlin trailed off, feeling his breathing stutter as he remembered the look of betrayal, the anger. “You didn’t see him,” he repeated in a whisper.

“No, perhaps not. However, I have seen him since, and let me tell you my boy, he misses you more than anything.” Merlin looked up at Gaius in disbelief. “He’s been quiet, and there’s a haunted look in his eyes. He came to me a few days after they got back and asked me to tell him about your magic. For days, he listened to me and Lancelot tell him your story. He confessed that there was nothing he regretted more than causing you to fall from that cliff.”

Merlin was silent for a few moments after hearing what Gaius had to say. 

“And what if I can’t bear it?” he whispered, looking at the ground. “What if I can’t bear to take the chance that he might hate me, that my betrayal was too much?” 

“You have said before that you are two halves of the same coin, have you not?” Merlin nodded slowly at Gaius’ question. “Well, a half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole, now can it?” 

Merlin froze for a moment, remembering those words, how the dragon had said them when Merlin had first arrived in Camelot. 

“Maybe. But I can’t guarantee that I’ll have the strength to face him,” he said quietly. Gaius brought a hand to his chin in thought.

“Well, how about this? You can stay here for a few days, and wear that cloak if you wish. But at some point, you must go and see Arthur. Then, you will see that I am right,” he suggested. Merlin mulled it over for a minute.

“Fine. But not yet, I don’t think I’m ready,” Merlin said, his voice quieting the last few words. Gaius nodded in understanding. 

“Very well. Now, sit down. You look as thin as a skeleton,” Gaius said. Merlin was about to tell him that he should have seen him just after the druids found him, but thought the better of it. Instead, he sat in the chair that had always been his and allowed Gaius to serve him a large bowl of stew.

* * *

Later that day, Merlin was walking down to the tavern. He knew Gwaine, and according to Gaius, he had spent even more time in the tavern since Merlin’s “death”, if possible.

He checked for the fourth time that the hood was resting on top of his head as he darted through the doors of the tavern. He glanced around the room, checking to see if the knight was there and making sure no one else was. Sure enough, after a few moments, he recognized one of the heads down on the table in the corner of the room. This was odd, as Gwaine usually liked to be towards the center near all the action, but convenient for Merlin since it would be out of the way. 

He walked over to the table, glanced around, and after he made sure that no one was looking over at them, removed his hood and sat down across from the other man.

“Bugger off,” Gwaine said gruffly. Merlin’s mouth quirked up.

“Oi, I just got back and you tell me to bugger off? Some friend you are,” Merlin teased. Gwaine’s head shot up, and he looked at Merlin with his eyes a bit hazy and full of disbelief.

“Merlin?!” he slurred out loudly. Merlin shushed him as he glanced around.

“Yeah, it’s me, but I don’t exactly want everyone to know I’m here yet, keep your voice down,” he scolded, though there was no real bite to it.

“Sorry, Merls,” Gwaine said. “How’re you here though?”

“I’m immortal Gwaine, my magic keeps me alive,” Merlin explained, keeping it simple because he knew he would have to explain all of this again to Sober Gwaine. 

Gwaine was quiet for a moment, before laughing raciously. “Immortal! Well thank the gods for that, huh? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t know before, I don’t exactly make it a habit to die often,” Merlin retorted. Gwaine’s face darkened, and Merlin tried to steer the conversation away from his death. “I think it’s time you go home, Gwaine. You’re drunk as anything, and I don’t want to have to carry you back,” Merlin said.

Gwaine nodded and stood up. He swayed for a second and almost fell over. Merlin hastened to his side and quickly wrapped an arm around his waist, allowing his friend to put an arm around his shoulder. Together, with luckily very few looks, they managed to get out of the tavern with no one looking too closely at them.

“I really hope this isn’t a dream,” Gwaine’s confession was slurred as they walked in the street. “I really like you being alive again.”

“Well, I promise, I’m here, this isn’t a dream,” Merlin muttered.

“You won’t go away again, will you?” Gwaine asked. Merlin said nothing. “Promise me, you won’t leave? Promise you’ll stay, and you’ll be real?”  
“I promise Gwaine, I am real,” Merlin said.

“Yeah but what about the other stuff. Do you promise you won’t leave? Promise you’ll stay here and be my friend forever?” 

Merlin felt a pang in his chest as he remembered his intent to return to Ealdor. “I promise,” he lied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, the Arthur reunion is coming soon, please just be patient with me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit worried that this chapter feels choppy, but oh well. Hope you enjoy!

When Merlin woke up, he couldn’t remember where he was at first. He wasn’t in Ealdor, he knew that, but he wasn’t in his cot at Gauis’ either. He opened his eyes to see that yes, he was laying on a floor, and it wasn’t until he heard Gwaine’s loud snore that he remembered. The night before, he had dragged Gwaine back to his room, and the knight had refused to let Merlin leave, gripping his hand tight in his drunken state. Merlin had decided to stay and curled up on the floor, using his cloak as a pillow.

Gwaine groaned, and Merlin sat up to look at him. His eyes were squeezed shut, and Merlin smirked as he imagined the hangover Gwaine must have been nursing.

“And this is why you don’t drink yourself into oblivion,” Merlin said quietly. Gwaine’s eyes shot open, before shutting again after a moment.

“You are back then, that wasn’t just me being drunk,” Gwaine said, his voice rough and pained.

“Yes,” Merlin said. “How much do you remember from last night?”   
“I remember you coming to my table, and you said you were immortal?” Gwaine’s sentence turned into a question as he spoke, his eyes cracking open again. Merlin nodded. “How?”

“How what?” Merlin asked.

“How are you immortal?” 

“Well, I don’t just have magic, I _ am  _ magic. As long as there is magic on Earth, I won’t die,” Merlin explained, deciding to leave out the fact that he could, technically, be killed. There as a second of silence, then Gwaine let out a loud, hard laugh.   
“Always knew there was something special about you, Merlin. Didn’t think it was that you were immortal and magical, but hey, it’s something.” He was quiet for a few seconds again, seemingly thinking. “I suppose you want to go see Arthur?” he asked.

Merlin’s heart skipped a beat. “No, actually, I was hoping to see Lancelot, and maybe Gwen if she would be willing,” he said. Gwaine seemed to study him for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah, I guess you probably wouldn’t want to see the Royal Asshole so soon,” he said, almost more to himself than to Merlin. “Come on, I’ll take you to Gwen and Lance’s.” With that, he stood up, stumbling a bit, before changing into a fresh tunic. Merlin grabbed his cloak, clasped it, then threw on the hood. 

Gwaine’s eyes widened. “What the hell?!”

Merlin remembered that Gwaine hadn’t seen him use his cloak yet, so he quickly removed the hood and explained it to Gwaine. The knight just raised his eyebrows before telling Merlin to just hold on to his arm so that he knew if Merlin got lost. Merlin wanted to say that he knew where Gwen and Lancelot lived, but decided to bite his tongue instead.

As they made their way through the town, Merlin started to get nervous. He didn’t know why, after all, this was Lancelot and Gwen. Gwen may not have known about his magic, but she was always a good friend, and he had a feeling she would accept him. 

Sooner than he thought, they were at Gwen’s home, where he knew Lancelot had spent most of his time before Merlin’s fall. Gwaine knocked on the door, and Gwen answered.

“Hello, Gwaine. What can I do for you?” she asked, her voice as soft and sweet as Merlin remembered.

“Hey, Gwen. Is Lancelot home?” Gwaine asked.

“Yes, why? Does Arthur need the knights?” Gwen asked.

“No, actually, I was hoping that I could talk to the two of you. It’s quite important,” Gwaine said, a note of urgency in his voice.

“Of course, come in,” Gwen said, stepping out of the doorway. Gwaine and Merlin walked in, Merlin following closely behind so that Gwen wouldn’t close the door on him.

“Gwaine, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Lancelot said, striding over to the kitchen table. Gwen moved to stand behind him, running her hands through his hair. Gwaine cleared his throat.

“Well…” he said, gesturing to Merlin, who had still been gripping his arm. Merlin took the hint and reached up, hesitating before throwing off his hood. Lancelot jumped, and Gwen’s hands flew to her mouth.

“Merlin?!” both of them asked in sync. Merlin’s mouth quirked into a small grin.    
“Hello,” he said. Both of them seemed to be frozen in a state of shock, Gwen’s eyes watering.

“Merlin…” she said, a sob escaping from her as she ran over and pulled him into a hug. Merlin let out a small “oof” before returning the hug. 

“Hey, Gwen,” he whispered softly. She tightened her grip on him, crying softly onto his shoulder. 

When she finally let go of him, Lancelot had stood up from his chair. 

It’s good to see you again, old friend,” he said, clasping Merlin on the arm. “But, how are you alive?” 

Merlin sighed, and they all sat down as Merlin told them the story. Gwen gasped when he described dying repeatedly in the shasm, and Lancelot’s face darkened as he spoke. He told them how the group of druids found him and explained everything about his magic, how they had nursed him back to health and brought him to Ealdor. When he finished his tale, everyone was quiet, before Lancelot finally spoke up.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked. Merlin hesitated, then shrugged.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll probably go back to Ealdor, my mother could always use more help around the farm.”

“What?!” Gwaine exclaimed. “You promised last night that you weren’t going to leave!”

“I didn’t think you’d actually remember that,” Merlin said guiltily.

“Course I remember,” Gwaine grumbled. “I wasn’t  _ that  _ drunk.”

“Yeah, you were. I’m surprised you’re sober now,” Merlin said. Gwaine glared at him.

“Well, either way, you shouldn't leave. I don’t know if you heard, but magic is legal again. The Princess did that as soon as we got back from…” Gwaine trailed off.

“Not to mention, Arthur has been despondent since your fall,” Lancelot said. “He hasn’t been himself for almost a year now.”

“I can’t remember the last time I saw him truly smile,” Gwen added. “He misses you, I think he’d completely fall apart if you left him again.”

Merlin was quiet for a moment.

“You weren’t planning on seeing him, were you?” Lancelot asked softly. Merlin startled at that, wondering if Lancelot was secretly able to read minds. Merlin looked at the ground.

“I just… I know everyone says that he misses me,” Merlin paused, “but I just can’t forget his face when he knew that I had magic. I try to imagine what all of you are saying that he regrets what happened, but all I can see is him holding that sword to my chest.” 

Everyone was quiet after Merlin’s confession.

“Oh Merlin,” Gwen said, breaking the silence. “I know that must be hard for you, I can’t imagine how much that hurt. But if you continue to let that be your last memory with him, I fear you’ll never move on.”

Merlin looked at her, surprised by her wisdom. “I suppose your right,” he conceded. “At some point, I will go see him. But for right now, can we talk about you all? I want to know what’s been happening with you since I left.”

The other three smiled softly, before Gwaine launched into a rousing story of how he had fought off six bandits by himself while on patrol. Laughing with Lancelot and Gwen at the clearly embellished details, Merlin felt happier than he had in months.

* * *

The next day, Merlin was with Gaius, helping the man prepare a potion. The two had talked about an illness spreading through the lower town, and had experimented with different possible medicines that could help. After a few hours though, Gaius finally cleared his throat.

“Have you gone to see Arthur yet?” he asked, in a tone that indicated that he knew Merlin hadn’t.

“No,” Merlin said shortly, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get away with a lie. 

“I know you’re hesitant to do so, but I think it would benefit you both if you were to see him,” Gaius said. Merlin sighed.

“I know, I know.”

“And frankly, if you continue to put it off, it’ll only make things worse for yourself,” Gaius continued.

“Alright then. Perhaps I will just go now.” Merlin said, knowing Gaius wasn’t going to let up until Merlin agreed to go. He would prefer to get it over with at this point, though his nerves were on fire at the thought. 

“Very well. He’ll likely be training by himself near the forest.” Merlin nodded, grabbing the hood of the cloak. “And Merlin?” He looked over at Gaius. “Do come back, alright? My heart can’t take it if you run off without a word.” He nodded again and pulled up the hood, heading in the direction Gaius gave him. 

* * *

Merlin watched from where he stood at the edge of the woods. Arthur seemed different, that much he could tell. There was rage behind his movements, and the quiet calculation that was always there when he fought was gone. He seemed to be moving purely through instinct, relying on muscle memory alone. 

Merlin’s heart broke when he realized that he was the cause of it, that his lies and betrayal had caused Arthur to feel this. He became lost in his thoughts, and failed to notice when a particularly strong breeze blew and gently pushed his hood off, as though Nature itself was nudging him towards his destiny. 

He stood there for a few minutes, still lost in thought, when Arthur turned for a moment to reach for a waterskin laying on the ground behind him, and his eyes passed briefly over the spot where Merlin stood. Arthur froze, then slowly turned and looked at Merlin dead on. 

“Merlin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is written, I just need to edit it, it should hopefully be up really soon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told y'all it would be quick.   
> I present to you, the much anticipated reunion. I hope it lives up to your expectations.

Merlin’s eyes widened, and he reached up to grasp at the hood that was around his shoulders. Panic flooded him when he realized it was down, and he froze as well. 

They stood there like that for a few moments, each trying to figure out how to approach the situation. Arthur was looking at Merlin in shock, hurt flashing across his face.

“Are you real?” Arthur asked in a broken whisper. This seemed to break the both of them out of their trances, and Merlin let out a small snort.

“Course I’m real,” he said.

“And you’re… alive?” Arthur asked, still in the quiet whisper.

“Trust me, if I was dead I wouldn’t bother haunting  _ you _ ,” Merlin said, trying to hide the fear that was rolling through him. Arthur seemed to consider this for a moment, his eyes never leaving Merlin’s.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“Well, as it turns out, breaking literally every bone in your body  _ does  _ require some recovery time,” Merlin responded. 

“How on Earth did you manage not to die?”

“Oh, trust me, I did die. Several times in fact.” Confusion flashed in Arthur’s eyes. “As it turns out, death doesn’t stick to me.”

“What in the hell does that mean?”

Merlin sighed. “Gaius says he told you everything about my magic.” Arthur nodded. “I’m guessing he told you the name the druids call me?” 

“Emrys, isn’t it?”

“Yes. As it turns out, it means Eternal. So dying is a little more difficult for me,” he said, trying very hard to ignore his instincts telling him to flee, to leave Camelot and never look back. 

“You’re immortal?” Arthur breathed.

“Something like that,” Merlin said. He shifted his weight slightly to try and hide his discomfort, knowing that in Arthur’s chambers there rested a sword that  _ would  _ guarantee his death should the king decide to kill him once and for all.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your magic?” Arthur asked after a few moments of silence, searching for Merlin’s gaze. Merlin granted it, meeting his eyes as he thought through the various answers he could give to that question.

“How could I have?” Merlin answered with a question of his own. “This is Camelot, you were the prince and then the king.”

“That shouldn’t have mattered!” Arthur roared, causing Merlin to flinch. “I am your friend, I could have protected you!”

“Is that what they call throwing someone off of a cliff nowadays?” Merlin asked coldly. He felt regret slide through him as soon as he said it, and it only worsened when Arthur sagged, his posture drooping and his eyes filling with defeat and sadness.

“I didn’t…” Arthur couldn’t seem to think of the right words. “I…” 

There were a few moments of silence as the men struggled to think of what to say. 

“I’m sorry Arthur, that was cruel,” Merlin finally said in a low voice, looking down at the ground. 

“You’re right though,” Arthur said. Merlin looked back up in shock. “I had no right to call you my friend when I was the one that led to your, apparently, several deaths. I’m sorry.” 

It was that, an apology from the king of Camelot, from the man Merlin had done so much for, from  _ Arthur, _ that was what finally did it. 

His throat began to feel thick, and the corners of his eyes were prickling.

“Arthur…” 

That seemed to break both men’s resolve. Arthur sheathed his sword and walked to Merlin, who stiffened a bit, with lengthy strides before crashing into him and pulling him into his arms.

It was a very rough hug, Arthur’s arms around his shoulders, holding on tightly to his tunic as though he was afraid Merlin would disappear. Merlin froze for a moment before he grabbed him back, arms under the other’s, hoping that Arthur couldn’t tell he was crying, unaware that Arthur was as well.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur breathed into his neck. “Please don’t ever leave me again.”

Merlin tensed and was silent, knowing that he was still debating staying.

“Merlin?” It seemed Arthur had noticed his internal struggle. He pulled back slightly, just enough that he could see Merlin’s face. “You weren’t planning on leaving, were you?” His voice was small, and Merlin’s heart broke to see the naked vulnerability on his face.

“I wasn’t sure yet,” Merlin said in a soft voice. Fear creeped into Arthur’s eyes.

“Please don’t, I promise you have nothing to fear, I won’t send you away, you are free to practice your magic. Please stay,” Arthur pleaded. Merlin had never heard him use this tone before, never heard him beg. It felt almost wrong to hear the vulnerability laced in a voice that was so often demanding and pretentious.He took a deep breath.

“Alright, I’ll stay,” he said. Relief flooded Arthur’s face, and he pulled Merlin back into the tight hug. They stayed like that for a few moments longer.

“I wouldn’t hurt you, Merlin. I promise,” Arthur whispered into his ear. Merlin nearly let out a whimper at the soft tone of voice, of a promise he had never dared allow himself to be real. “And besides,” Arthur said as he pulled away, “it’s not like I could even if I wanted to.” Merlin could tell that he was trying to tell a joke, but it fell flat.

“Well, actually...”

“What? How could I possibly kill you if you’re immortal?” Arthur asked incredulously. 

“A sword forged in dragon’s breath can kill any being, mortal or not,” Merlin said.

“Alright, but where on Earth would I even find one of those?” Arthur asked, hoping Merlin realized he wouldn’t even bother looking. Merlin looked away and said nothing. “Exactly. You have no reason to fear, Merlin. You’re safe here.”

And that look Arthur gave him, soft, tender, and trusting, almost let Merlin believe him. It almost allowed Merlin to let go of the fear that still roiled deep in his gut. But it refused to leave, whispering to him that this was all a lie, that Arthur would kill him as soon as his back was turned. Nevertheless, he nodded, hoping Arthur would believe him. But Arthur frowned instead.

“You do know that, don’t you Merlin? I won’t let anything else happen to you,” he said, looking Merlin in the eyes as though he could peer directly into his thoughts. Merlin nodded again.

“I know,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t betray him.    
“Say it then.”

“What?” Merlin asked, bewildered.

“Say it, Merlin. Tell me that you’re safe here, that I won’t hurt you,” Arthur ordered, still looking him in the eye. Merlin wanted to turn away from the intense look, but found that he couldn’t. When had he ever been able to deny Arthur anything?

“I’m safe here,” he said in a soft voice, “you won’t hurt me.”

Arthur seemed to look him over again, trying to tell if he was lying, but apparently found no evidence of it. Satisfied, he clapped his hands onto Merlin’s shoulders.

“Welcome back home, Merlin.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, we've still got two chapters left of this monstrosity, because Merlin still has a lot of ~Trauma~ that needs to be worked through. Also, I know Arthur might be a little OOC here, but I like a good Soft and Repentant Arthur, so that's what y'all are getting. I hope you all are enjoying it so far though!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those that thought Arthur got off easy in the last chapter, I present to you,  
> ~This~

In the weeks following his return to Camelot, Merlin had to adjust quite a bit. 

He had originally assumed that he would be returning to work as Arthur’s manservant, but the king had scoffed when he asked about it.

“Why would you do that? I already have a manservant, and George is much better.” Merlin looked at him offended.

“I thought you always said Geroge was boring,” he said.

“He is, but he’s much more efficient at being a servant than you were. Besides,” Arthur added hastily at seeing the hurt look on Merlin’s face, “Court Sorcrerers aren’t servants.”

Merlin let out a small gasp. “You want me to…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Arthur smiled softly.

“I don’t know anyone else more suited for the job,” he said. Merlin stood in shock.

“Thank you,” he said. 

“But, it will be a little bit to get the documents drafted up and such, but it should be done before the month is up,” Arthur said. Merlin nodded. He knew Uther had burned away any mentions of Court Sorcerers and how they were appointed, so they would have to start from scratch. “But, I can get your new chambers ready before the day is up.”

“New chambers?” Merlin asked, brows furrowed in confusion. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Yes, _Mer_ lin, can’t have my Court Sorcerer living in a tiny bedroom in the physician’s quarters. You’ll get your own living space,” he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Thank you,” Merlin repeated, feeling slightly off kilter from the kindness. It certainly wasn’t how he expected his return to Camelot to go. Arthur shook his head.

“You don’t need to thank me, Merlin. It’s just how things are done,” Arthur said nonchalantly. Merlin chuckled.

“Right. Well, thank you all the same,” he said. A soft expression appeared on Arthur’s face.

“Of course,” he said quietly. Merlin could have sworn he heard him say "Anything for you," as well, but it was too soft for him to tell.

* * *

The next few weeks passed oddly. Without his usual servant’s chores and his lack of responsibilities as a Court Sorcerer yet, Merlin didn’t really know what to do with his time. He helped Gaius sometimes, though the man turned him away more often than not stating that it was easier to make potions without the distraction, or gave Gwen a helping hand on her more difficult chores. Arthur always rolled his eyes at this, saying it was unseemly for a Court Sorcerer to be seen doing chores, which caused Merlin to fire back and remind him he _wasn't_ a Court Sorcerer yet, so he could do whatever he damn well pleased.

That was another new thing that had changed since his return. Arthur was always with him. Even though before they had spent almost all of their time together, it had always been Merlin trailing behind Arthur, following the king wherever he went. Now, it was the opposite. No matter where Merlin went, Arthur never seemed far behind. Even if he wasn’t standing next to Merlin, he was always in his line of sight, stealing glances whenever he could. It was obvious enough that others noticed it as well.

“Is he still following you around?” Gwen asked with a smile. Merlin did a quick turn around to see that, yes, Arthur was standing just a short distance from where Gwen and Merlin were beating the rugs in the courtyard.

“Seems like he always is,” Merlin said. He wasn’t sure yet how he felt about Arthur following him. On one hand, he had missed their friendship terribly, but on the other, his mind still couldn’t trust that Arthur had forgiven him completely and might turn on him any day. Part of him wondered if Arthur followed him around to make sure he didn’t do anything dangerous, anything that might give him an excuse to try and banish or execute him. He shook his head as though trying to dislodge the thoughts and swung at the rug again, watching the cloud of dust explode then settle.

“Well, I’m not surprised,” Gwen said in between hits. “He missed you so terribly, he’s probably worried that if he takes his eyes off of you for even a second, you’ll vanish.”

Merlin hummed noncommittally, landing a particularly good hit that caused the rug to swing quite hard as more dirt shook loose.

“I mean it, why do you think he made your new chambers so close to his? He wants to make sure you don’t run away,” she said. Merlin wondered if she had a point. His new chambers had been set up much faster than Merlin had thought, and they were the closest chambers available near the king’s. “He cares about you, Merlin. And I’d dare to say that you care about him just as much.” 

Merlin threw Gwen a dirty look, seeing the smirk she was trying to hide. She had somehow always known how deeply devoted Merlin was to Arthur, and had made it clear what she thought that devotion was from. Merlin never said anything about it, and that only seemed to deepen her resolve that she was right. (Not that Merlin would have ever told her that she was.) 

"Come on, can't you at least admit that you care for him?" she asked in a teasing tone. Merlin said nothing for a moment.

"I care for him as much as I can right now," he said shortly. It was true that he had always cared for Arthur in a way that he had never cared for anyone else, but there was still a bit of fear on Merlin's and possibly Arthur's side that couldn't be ignored. Gwen seemed to sober up instantly, and neither of them spoke after that, letting the sound of the brooms hitting the rugs fill the silence between them.

* * *

It was early evening, and Merlin and Arthur were in the latter’s chambers. Arthur was sat in his chair, sharpening Excalibur with care, while Merlin sat in front on the floor in front of the hearth, using his magic to manipulate the flames into shapes. He still felt uneasy doing magic so casually, even after nearly a month and Arthur working to make him Court Sorcerer. Gaius had told him that doing casual magic in front of others would hopefully help him feel safer doing so. He decided that maybe doing some in front of Arthur while he was distracted would help. He didn’t notice Arthur glancing at him often, mesmerized by the gold in his eyes.

“What were you and Gwen talking about earlier?” Arthur asked out of the blue. Merlin jumped a little at the break in the silence. 

“Oh, this and that,” he said, not wanting to tell Arthur they had talked about him. “Castle gossip, things that have happened since I’ve been gone, that sort of thing.” He vaguely noticed that Arthur’s grip tightened on the whetstone and sword hilt when Merlin said “gone”, but he wasn’t quite sure.

“Anything else?” he asked. Merlin shook his head, wondering why Arthur cared so much.

“No, not really,” he said, turning his attention to the flames.

“You know, you’re a terrible liar,” Arthur said conversationally. Merlin snorted.

“I wouldn’t say that.” 

An uneasy silence followed his words.

“I suppose that’s true,” Arthur admitted quietly. “Though I suppose it helped that I never bothered to actually check if you were in the tavern or not.” Merlin let out a short laugh.

“I always hated when Gaius used that excuse,” he said. Arthur put his sword up to his eyes, looking down the blade from the hilt to check the edges of the sword.

“I mean it always worked,” Arthur said, satisified with his work and lowering the sword to hold it loosely in his grip. “But yes, you probably should have both thought of a better excuse.”

As he spoke, he gestured a bit with the weapon in his hand, and in doing so accidentally grazed Merlin's shoulder, a clean cut that drew blood almost instantly. 

“Ouch!” Merlin hissed, bringing his hand up to the wound.

“Oh don’t be such a girl, Merlin, it barely grazed you,” Arthur said, though his eyes betrayed the worry he was feeling and he laid the sword back in his lap guiltily.

Merlin ignored him, continuing to inspect the small cut. He had gotten a few cuts and scratches from Excalibur before, and they had always stung worse than those caused by other swords. He had never been able to figure out why before, but now he knew. He could tell the stinging was from his magic attempting to heal him, to combat the curse on the blade. The sword always won however, and this caused his magic to burn away. It would go away in time, but for now, it stung like nothing else.

“Maybe, still hurts though,” Merlin muttered.

“How? I’ve sharpened it so much, I’m surprised you even felt it,” Arthur said.

“Yeah, but the magic always stings,” Merlin said absentmindedly, wiping off the blood that was slithering down his arm. Arthur frowned.

“What magic?” he asked.

“From the dragon’s breath,” Merlin said, before freezing. Both men seemed to realize what he had said at the same time.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked. “Are you telling me Excalibur was forged in a dragon’s breath?”

“Merlin paused before nodding slowly.

“And you decided not to tell me this, why?” Arthur asked, his voice low and dangerous. Merlin gulped and looked at the ground.

“Didn’t matter, did it?” he mumbled.

“Of course it matters, Merlin! The one kind of weapon that could kill you, and you decide not to tell me that I have one? Did you not trust me?” Arthur’s voice had risen at this point, anger bleeding through every word.

“Of course I trusted you, I gave you the bloody thing, didn’t I?” Merlin said irritably.

“But you didn’t tell me what it really was?! What, were you afraid if I knew I was going to kill you?” Arthur bellowed. 

Merlin was silent.

“Oh gods, don’t tell me you’re still afraid?!” Arthur said, a hint of fury in his words. “After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve told you, you still cling to your fear?!”

It was Arthur’s accusatory tone, as though he was implying that Merlin was in the wrong for being scared, that finally made him snap.

“OF COURSE I’M STILL AFRAID!” Merlin yelled. “I WASTED AWAY AT THE BOTTOM OF A PIT FOR MONTHS THINKING THAT YOU HATED ME AND WANTED ME DEAD! I FEARED RETURNING TO CAMELOT AND FACING YOU AGAIN, THINKING THAT YOU’D BE ANGRY THAT I HAD KEPT MY MAGIC A SECRET FROM YOU!   
“NOT TO MENTION, DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE WITH LIKE ME I’VE WATCHED DIE HERE? I LOST COUNT A LONG TIME AGO! MY _FIRST DAY_ IN CAMELOT I SAW SOMEONE BE BEHEADED FOR MAGIC! I HAVE BEEN AFRAID OF EXECUTION SINCE I LEARNED WHAT IT WAS! YOU MAY HAVE BEEN TRAINED TO KILL SINCE BIRTH, BUT I HAVE BEEN TRAINED TO _FEAR_ SINCE BIRTH! FORGIVE ME FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO FORGET THAT FEAR SO QUICKLY!”

The two were silent for a moment, Merlin’s heavy breathing filling the room. Then, Merlin turned on his heel and ran out of the room.

For the first time since his return to Camelot, Arthur did not follow him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst angst angst angst angst
> 
> I have the next chapter mostly written, it should be up soon.  
> Hope y'all are ready!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't think I'd leave you hanging for long, did you? There are too many cliffhangers, literally, in this story for me to do that.  
> Enjoy~

Arthur sat frozen in his chair for a few minutes, numb with shock. Eventually he sat forward, letting the sword clatter to the ground as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, thoughts swirling in his head.

Merlin still hadn’t trusted him. Merlin was still afraid of him. Merlin had been scared that Arthur would kill him.

Merlin gave him a weapon that would kill him.

Arthur dropped his hands and looked into the dying flames. He thought about how Merlin had been playing with the fire, making shapes and figures. He had seemed so at ease, but it had been a lie. He was still scared, and Arthur had been sharpening the very weapon that could kill him within an arm’s length. He had cut him with it. He had hurt him again.

A new thought entered his head and caused his stomach to sink. Oh gods, Merlin had been scared of Arthur the whole time he had been back, and Arthur hadn’t left him alone. He had been too scared of losing Merlin to let him out of his sight, and in doing so, he had terrified the poor man. Was there anything he could do right?!

Frustrated with himself and exhausted, Arthur decided to let Merlin have time to himself, as having Arthur with him was clearly not going to help. He would give both Merlin and himself time to be apart and think things through.

Arthur walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out his sleeping clothes, ready to go to bed. He felt emotionally drained, and hopefully some sleep would do him good.

* * *

Sleep evaded him. He lay curled under his covers for hours, his mind giving him terrible, intrusive thoughts.

 _Merlin hates you_ , the voices whispered. _Merlin never wants to see you again_. No matter how much he tried to ignore those thoughts, they continued needling at him, until one in particular struck him.

_You’re going to chase him away. He’s going to decide he doesn’t want to see you ever again, and it will be your fault. Again._

Panic flooded him. What if Merlin left? What if he was already long gone, and Arthur was never going to see him again? Throwing back his bed covers, he hurried to Merlin’s chambers. While he had originally wanted to give the other man time and space, he realized that he couldn’t risk losing Merlin again.

When he got in front of Merlin’s door, he hesitated. What if he wasn't there? What if he was, but he didn’t want to see Arthur? He could stand that, he would leave as soon as Merlin asked, as long as he was sure the warlock wouldn’t leave him again. Mustering up his courage, he opened the door quietly and stepped in, hoping not to disturb Merlin’s sleep if he was there.

It was dark, the light from the fireplace dying. At first, Arthur was scared when he noticed that Merlin wasn’t in bed or at his table, but then he heard stirring near the fireplace. Sure enough, Merlin was curled up by the hearth, blinking sleep out of his eyes.  
“Arthur?” he croaked, his voice rough and soft from sleep. Arthur froze for a moment.   
“I didn’t mean to wake you Merlin,” he said, not moving. The two looked at each other.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, I shouldn’t have shouted at you,” Merlin finally said. Arthur froze, then his nostrils flared.

“No, you aren’t allowed to apologize. I’m the one that should be begging for forgiveness.” As he spoke Arthur walked over to where Merlin was sitting on the floor, sitting down slowly and with a bit of distance between the two of them so as to not startle Merlin. The man in question seemed surprised.

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked. Arthur took a deep breath.

“I should have realized that I couldn’t just say a few words and you would suddenly be able to trust me without fear. I don’t think I realized just how long you’ve been afraid, and I obviously haven’t done enough to make sure you feel safe. I promise Merlin, I’ll do better,” he said, his words becoming pleading. Merlin shook his head softly.

“I don’t think there’s much more you can do. You’ve done so much for me and everyone like me. But fear has been instilled in me all my life. It comes as natural to me as breathing or my magic. It might take me awhile to learn to get rid of it. It may never happen. And I don’t want you to think that that is your fault,” Merlin said quietly.

“Still, I should have understood that before. I didn’t realize how deep your fear ran, and I should have. How many times have I killed those with magic, or stood by and allowed it to happen? How many times have I condemned you without meaning to?” Silence followed his words, causing a pang in his chest. “So I’m sorry, Merlin.”

“I forgive you,” Merlin said automatically. Arthur shook his head.

“No, Merlin, you aren't allowed to forgive me yet. Not until I say you can. And that’s an order from your king.” He tried to make his voice both soft and commanding so as not to scare Merlin, but to let him know he was serious.

Merlin chuckled. “You prat.” 

Arthur grinned. “It’s still treason to insult your king,” he said, with no bite in his voice.

Merlin gave a small laugh before the two fell into an easy silence for a few minutes. Merlin finally broke it.

“Why are you here right now? It’s the middle of the night,” he asked. Arthur swallowed.

“I was afraid you might have left,” he confessed, looking down at the rug. 

“I couldn’t have,” Merlin said.

“I know, but…” Arthur trailed off, unsure how to voice his fears. There were a few moments of silence before Arthur managed to collect his thoughts.

“When you were gone, it was so hard. I never realized how much I needed you, how important you were. It was like there was this void, this absence of something so important. And knowing that I was the reason that you were gone, and thinking that I may have been the reason you were gone again… I couldn’t… I couldn’t face that Merlin. I need you, and losing you again is my biggest fear.” Merlin’s face danced through many different emotions during Arthur’s confession, before turning into a small grin.

“Careful there, Arthur, it almost sounds like you're professing your love for me,” Merlin said in a teasing voice. Arthur’s throat went dry.

‘“And what if I was?” he asked quietly. Merlin looked at him, startled. Arthur forged on. “What if I had been in love with you for years?”

“What?” Merlin asked, shocked. Arthur slowly raised his hand and put it to cup Merlin’s cheek, carefully making sure Merlin wouldn’ flinch. He stroked the cheekbones that had been the bane of his existence for years as he continued, afraid that he would never be able to be strong enough to say these words again.

“I love you, Merlin. And I understand if you don’t feel the same. Hell, I expect it. But just know, I would do anything for you, the same way you have done so much for me. I hope you’ll stay with me, and I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

There was a pause following his words, and Arthur began to feel afraid that he had overstepped, had ruined whatever bond they had. He tried to read Merlin's expression when suddenly Merlin was surging forward and smashing their lips together.

Arthur was shocked for a moment, before eagerly returning the kiss, bringing his hand up to grip the front of Merlin’s tunic, other hand still holding his cheek. He felt as though he was burning from the inside out, in the most wonderful, warm, comforting way. His whole body seemed to sing at the contact. Every bone in his body seemed to scream _this is right._

He didn’t want to pull away, but too soon he had to breathe. Even then, he didn’t go far, pressing his forehead against Merlin’s as they caught their breath. 

“I know that I’ve done terrible things,” Arthur murmured, closing his eye and letting his thumb still on Merlin’s face trace his cheekbone, “and I know that I have much to make up for. But I intend to do so. I will do right by you, Merlin and I hope that one day I will finally be worthy of all of the things you’ve sacrificed in my name.” A soft sniffle followed his words, and Arthur grinned and opened his eyes to look at Merlin’s face. His eyes were turned to the ground, a tear slipping down his face.

“Are you crying, you great girl?” Arthur asked cheekily. Merlin gave a watery laugh.

“You prat, you can’t just say things like that…” Merlin’s voice was thick as he trailed off, continuing to keep his gaze on the ground, a slight smile on his face. Arthur lifted his other hand to Merlin’s face and pushed it up so that Merlin’s gaze met his own. His thumbs brushed his face to wipe away the stray tears.

“I think you’ll find that I can, in fact, say those things. Actually,” he pressed a kiss to Merlin’s temple, “I _will_ say those things, every day, until you don’t have any fear left in you. And then,” he pressed a kiss to Merlin’s cheek, “I might just say them after that, so that you can always know just how loved you are.” With that, he placed a short, chaste kiss to Merlin’s lips.

“Arthur…” Merlin whimpered. He lunged forward and crashed his lips into Arthur’s, who reciprocated enthusiastically, moving his left hand to curl around the back of Merlin’s neck while his right moved to the middle of his chest, where he could feel the other’s heart beating frantically. Through the kiss, Arthur grinned.

The gods had gifted him a second chance.

Arthur would be damned if he didn’t do it right this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! I do have a plan to write a 5+1 fic that will be a sequel to this, but I'm not sure when or even if it will be a thing.  
> I hope you all enjoyed my story! Special thanks to everyone who left a kudos/comment/subscribed, and an extra big thanks to my roommate, who read me back the most dramatic bits of this story in a completely ridiculous way to make me laugh.  
> I hope you all have a good one!


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